


SPN Whump Oneshots

by La_Vie_en_Whump



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Jodi Mills, Dean Winchester Whump, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Oneshot collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sam Winchester Whump, Whump, cattle prod, electricution, held captive, oneshots, restrained
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26574178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Vie_en_Whump/pseuds/La_Vie_en_Whump
Summary: What the title says, Winchesters in pain. Standalone chapters with their own descriptions.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Electrocution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are held captive by an Irish Goddess. Sam gets electrocuted. Jody is a badass.

In the few, tense seconds before the door opens, Sam considers playing dead. The thought vanishes nearly as quickly as it’d formed. The Winchesters dawn similarly defiant frowns as a figure enters the room, a cattle prod in-hand. It’s a woman, late-thirties, with odd tattoos sleeved up her arms.

Dean flicks his head towards the electric prod. “Kinky.” 

The woman doesn’t seem to appreciate his comment, though she remains silent. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she jams the rod into Sam’s side, sending electricity scorching through his skin.

Eyes wide, Dean watches in shock as his brother’s face contorts in pain, back arching, neck cording like rope. He watches helpless as Sam’s eyes roll back into his head.

“STOP!”

The woman eases up, giving Sam a moment to catch his breath. She eyes Dean carefully, unblinkingly, then returns the prod to Sam’s bruised body.

Sam gurgles, his voice long since been stripped by agony. 

“Please,  _ please _ stop! Leave him alone!” Dean rips against his restraints, face pinched in anger.

The woman hums. Removes the prod.

“Pretty manners, hon’. Begging’s a good look on you boys.”

Dean quickly meets Sam’s eyes, apologetic. Sam chuffs out a heavy breath and nods. He’s good. Ish. Dean resigns himself to asking questions.

“Who are you? What do you want?” 

“I’m Airmid, and I can bring the dead to life.” She smiles, and points the prod in Dean’s direction. Her tattoos begin swimming around on her skin. “Not so popular with the angels, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

Sam frowns. “You killed them, didn’t you? The angels we were supposed to have met here.”

“Killed them? Oh no, not really. You met them-” Airmid’s moving tattoos begin to glow. “Well, their vessels, anyway. You boys’ll add nicely to my collection.”

Dean has barely a second’s time to brace himself before a beam of energy erupts from the God’s fingertips and meets his body. The pain is sharp, excruciating. But it ends.

When the light recedes, they begin to notice a blade protruding from Airmid’s chest. An angel blade. Jody steps out from behind the supernatural being and watches in a mix of awe and disgust as Airmid crumples to the ground, and dissipates.

A collective sigh of relief.

“Good timing.”


	2. Heat Exhaustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are on a hunt in Maui and Sam gets stuck with a long, excruciating walk back to town.

There was always a new ten. 

This, Sam knew for certain. Stranded on the volcanic plains of northern Maui, with heat encompassing him like a sauna, Sam was cusping on the edge of his limit. He was too hot, too tired, too malnourished to be hiking his way back to town. To Dean. 

He’d rate this a two. Not bad. Not fun, though.

From this high up, Sam could look down on Pa’ia as if the seaside town were a miniature model. Red dirt coated itself on Sam’s sweaty legs as he trekked downhill. He’d started at a run, but fell to a walk as fatigue clawed its way into his limbs.

He felt light-headed. The heat was suffocating. Sam visualized the air striking matches against his skin and his breath came fast and shallow, as if trying to sift the deadly warmth from the fire. 

But he couldn’t. 

It was like drowning, but in reverse. The air’s impressive humidity sunk heavy in his lungs, and felt as though it was physically weighing him down. Sweat rolled off his back like water, his clothes dark and hot with salt. His hair stuck to his face. Eventually, his excessive perspiration helped slick it back behind his ears. What Sam would give for a hair-tie right now.

For water.

For a fucking burger.

Screw this hunt. Screw the gods, and their bloody sacrifices, the messy cover-ups, and the broken families. 

Sam sits in the dirt, vision spotting black at the edges. He stopped sweating. His head hurt. His stomach rolled like the tide.

Only 5km to go.


End file.
